


Youth is Wasted on the Young

by uofmdragon



Series: CC Trope Bingo [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 04:10:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20754122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uofmdragon/pseuds/uofmdragon
Summary: For their 50th anniversary Phil wants to do something special.  Surprisingly, Clint is the one unsure of the plans.





	Youth is Wasted on the Young

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by lapilus
> 
> Written for CC Trope Bingo for the De-aging square.

Clint leaned into the counter as he idly ran the rag over it, watching as Phil backed into the power recliner. He fumbled a bit as he reached back to grab the remote and lower the chair as well as put his legs up. Phil shifted, but Clint had a feeling his gout was acting up. He might need to dig out his walker for Phil if it continued.

"You know we have a maid for that," Phil said, looking over at him.

"I don't think Chip likes it when you call him a maid."

"He definitely doesn't like it when you call him Chip."

Phil huffed. "Then the service needs to stop sending generic white boys."

Clint ducked his head to hide his grin. Phil hated their cleaning service, but his great niece kept buying them gift certificates to there. Neither of them wanted to waste it or foist it on their friends. He also sounded like such a cranky old man, and man, had they'd gotten old. Clint could still remember not thinking he'd live to be this old. Yet, here he was almost 90 with Phil over 90. 

They'd both aged, but differently. Phil's hairline had gradually crept back, though he had a few stragglers. Clint had kept his hair. Clint needed glasses for almost everything now, except far away things. Phil's cataract surgery had produced similar results for a time. They'd both had their hips replaced, almost a decade apart. Clint's had gone first. Clint's upper body was filled with arthritis and Phil's lower body had gout. Phil had had a heart attack and Clint had dealt with prostate cancer. Phil could move without a cane, but Clint needed his.

"Stop hiding in the kitchen and come talk to me about this," Phil said.

Clint sighed, grabbing his cane though he could use the walls to get there, he'd need his cane later. He made his way to his power recliner and slowly settled in it. He looked over at Phil, whose blue eyes still sparkled with good humor and a willingness to listen. "It's expensive."

"We have savings," Phil reminded him.

"It's dangerous and addictive."

"We're old. What do we have to lose?"

Clint huffed a laugh. "Are you sure, this is what you want?"

"Yes, I'd like to have sex with you without worrying that one of us is going to break. One more time."

Clint sighed, before nodding. "For our anniversary?"

Phil nodded. "Won't Natasha be surprised."

Clint huffed, looking away. "If she remembers to call."

"She'll call," Phil said. "And be quite angry that she missed it."

"We'll see," Clint said, unsure if she'd bother to call. He knew he wasn't handling it well, but Natasha had pulled away the older they'd got and the younger she'd stayed. She was protecting herself and knew even though she'd kept them alive, she couldn't protect them from time. She was running around with the fifth Hawkeye, Clint's granddaughter, as Kate's son had just stepped down to stay with his family. At least, she had Steve and Bucky to keep her company and Tony's brain that he'd uploaded into computers.

"But we're agreed?" Phil asked. "You could shoot again."

Clint looked over at him. "I said, yes."

*

Clint leaned into his cane as he looked at the brewery slash pub. It looked like somewhere Clint would go before SHIELD. He looked at Phil. "You're sure this is the place?"

"Best place to sell potions and brews," Phil replied, smiling at him.

Clint gave him a side-eye glare, because seriously.

"Besides Ben said that witchcraft doesn't foot the bills. Brewing beers and hard cider do though."

"Well, you better hope he has a Hefeweizen," Clint murmured.

"I'm not here for his beer," Phil grumbled, before moving forward.

Clint sighed and trailed off of him. He wondered if maybe they should have brought someone along with. Then again, Phil was right, they'd lived a long and fulfilling life. Might as well go out trying to take a fucking witch's potion to make themselves younger for the night.

The inside of the bar was dark and Clint felt his shoes stick to the ground. He wrinkled his nose and hoped that he'd remember to clean the bottom of his shoes before he became old again.

Phil was talking to the bartender and Clint went to stand by him. 

"He's going to get Ben."

"I still can't believe you met a witch named Ben," Clint muttered.

"Yes, well…"

"We can still back out," Clint said. He hesitated. "You know I love you, no matter how you look."

Phil tensed slightly, which meant that Clint had hit his mark. "I know."

"At least you didn't get all wrinkly," Clint said. "I have more lines on my face than an amusement park."

Phil glanced back at him. "I like your lines."

Clint smiled, unable to resist it. "Thanks."

"Which is why I want to love you right," Phil murmured. "This is what I want."

"Okay, but you know I have no complaints about our lives, except for maybe trying to be on the team when I should have retired."

"Well, I suppose your hips would be happier, if you'd retired, before you broke them," Phil said, giving Clint a look.

"True." It was one of the very few things he'd change. "But hey, at least we had the equipment for when you needed it."

"Yeah," Phil nodded.

"Hello Phil," a dark haired individual with what Clint remembered were referred to as hipster glasses back in the day approached them. 

"Ben," Phil said. "This is my husband Clint. Clint this is Ben."

"Ben the witch," Clint replied.

Ben shrugged. "My parents were boring when it came to names and I decided I wasn't going to change it to Raven Nightfeather or something idiotic like that."

Clint nodded. 

"So," Phil said. "You said that you had a potion for us that would let us be young again."

Ben nodded. "I do, so long as you drink at it at sunset, then you can be young until the sun rises again and so long as you have my money."

Phil looked at Clint expectantly, who sighed and reached into his jacket to pull out the cashier's check and hand it over. "Is it really safe to be doing this here?"

"It's my brewery," Ben said. "And cops tend to forget why they come in here, especially if they're going to try and bust me for using magic to help people."

"Do you really help people though?" Clint asked, leaning into look at him.

"Always," Ben replied with a predatory grin. "Just not always in the way they expect. I'll fetch your drinks."

He disappeared into the back. Clint looked over at Phil, arching an eyebrow. "We would so bust him if we were younger."

"Yeah, but if we try tonight, no one will believe us in the morning."

Clint huffed. "Ageism is alive and well."

"Yep," Phil agreed. 

They fell silent and it wasn't long before Ben appeared with two bottles that read 'Long in the Youth.' Clint sighed softly at the damn pun, but said nothing as Phil and Ben completed the transaction. Phil took the bottles and led them out of the bar. Clint followed after him. He was going to speedwalk so much tonight and enjoy getting to places first or maybe he'd follow Phil's pace and hold his hand again. That'd be nice.

*

Clint woke to a groan of disgust and made out the face of Chip, no that wasn't the maid's name. He looked over at Phil, who was still asleep. Clint sighed, pushing himself up. They'd overslept by a lot if the maid was here and well he'd gotten an eyeful. There would probably be a new Chip, maybe he could talk Phil into calling him Biff. He needed to put on pants. He glanced over at Phil and grabbed the blanket to cover his shame. 

Why the hell had they gone to bed naked last night? Clint thought. He needed coffee, because they'd apparently overindulged in celebrating their anniversaries. Fucking hangover. It'd been a long time since he had one. Been a long time since he drunk enough that he couldn't remember the night before. Well, he'd wake up and remember.

Clint carefully leaned over and kissed Phil's forehead, before leaving the room. He grabbed his pants and headed across the hall to bathroom, pausing to yell down it. "Hey Chip, turn the coffee maker on!"


End file.
